Many are the stories told to show his eccentric character and occasional violence. During summer days he would place himself on the bank of the river with a gun and threaten to shoot passing boatmen unless they came on shore at his bidding, but no sooner did they land than Herbert would disappear, leaving the affrighted oarsmen in a state of perplexity as to what next. It sounds much like a fool trick from this distance, but his reputation made the experience anything but a pleasant one. Conviviality was the order of the night at The Cedars, Herbert being much in the habit of inviting friends to enjoy what he termed the hospitality of the place. On one such occasion four guests were drinking with him, when the host suddenly sprang to his feet and produced from a small closet two swords and, throwing one on the table, ordered one of those present to defend himself. Recognizing that the affair might terminate seriously, one of the guests kicked over the table, throwing the lamp to the floor and enveloping the room in sudden darkness. The party “broke up” then and there, and the company made for the Gully road that they might live to fight another day. Herbert was thoroughly crazed by this time, and chased his friends up to and down Belleville avenue. Finally the pursued separated and the pursuer kept on after one of them even to the Black Horse tavern (Broad street and Belleville avenue), where an escape was effected. THE HARE AND TORTOISE. A race modeled on Æsop’s fable is by no means an everyday occurrence, but Herbert was by no means an everyday citizen. He seems to have been as fond of a joke as he is said to have been of a bottle, and these two loves furnished a modern version of the Hare and Tortoise fable. The following facts are given me by Mr. James S. Taylor, who was an eye witness of the event, and who secured missing details from one of the participants later. But before going on with the story suppose we hear what the local poet had to say on the subject:— THE HARE AND THE TORTOISE. This is the tale of a race That long years gone took place On the broad river Passaic When times were archaic, And here are the facts in the case: One Herbert of eccentric renown Challenged a friend, of the town, And a supper of game Should be prize for the same, And with plenty of wine washed down. The challenged was clumsy at rowing And his boat very poor was at going, While Herbert’s was light And his rowing a sight To set all his backers a-crowing. But, like the hare in the ancient race, Herbert likewise did slacken his pace, And soon sought his ease ‘Neath the leaves where the trees On the waters their shadows did trace.